6 Shark Against Man 



boat had sighted four sharks 8 miles off Asbury Park. Another shark had 

 been reported 200 yards off Bridgehampton, Long Island, by Esterbrook 

 Carter, nephew of Charles E. Hughes, the Republican candidate for 

 President. Carter, along with all other Republicans, was relieved to learn 

 that Hughes had spent the day indoors, polishing his speech accepting 

 the nomination. 



Officials of the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries in Washington tried to dispel 

 the fear of sharks e?! masse. A single shark, they theorized, was probably 

 responsible for both fatal attacks. Because of a scarcity of food fish off 

 the New Jersey shore, they said, this renegade shark may have been 

 driven far inshore and, maddened by hunger, attacked Van Sant. Then, 

 having acquired a taste for human flesh, it continued swimming near 

 shore until its appetite was satiated by Bruder. It was a ghastly theory. 

 In an apparent attempt to still renewed apprehension, U.S. Commissioner 

 of Fisheries Hugh M. Smith hastily pointed out on July 9th that "The 

 case is extremely unusual. I don't look for it to happen again. The fact 

 that only two out of millions of bathers have been attacked in many 

 years is evidence of the rarity of such instances." Again, the very best 

 assurance— from an expert. 



On a map, Matawan, New Jersey, appears to be an inland town. It 

 is 1 1 miles west of the Atlantic Ocean and 2 miles south of Raritan Bay, 

 a body of water that blends into the Lower Bay, gateway to the great 

 port of New York. Matawan's only link to salt water is a tenuous one, 

 a meandering tidal creek— barely a stream at high tide— that empties 

 into Raritan Bay. 



In the summer of 1916, as in countless summers before, Matawan 

 boys spent every minute they could in Matawan Creek. The most 

 popular swimming hole was at the old Propeller Wyckoff Dock, named 

 after the tug-sized steamer Wyckoff which, years before, used to come 

 up the creek with the tide to pick up farmers' produce and carry it to 

 the New York market on the next tide. The dock had deteriorated into 

 a dozen or so pilings that jutted close to one another along the edge of a 

 dilapidated pier. Diving and jumping off the pier and the pilings was not 

 adventurous enough for the boys who swam at Wyckoff Dock, so they 

 usually played tag, hopping from piling to piling in pursuit of one an- 

 other. 



One day in early July, 1916, Rennie (for Rensselaer) Cartan, aged 14, 

 was playing tag on the Wyckoff pilings. To escape an outreaching hand, 

 Rennie dived into the creek. As his head and shoulders entered the murky 

 water, he felt something like a strip of very coarse sandpaper grate along 

 his stomach. He arched his body to the surface and stroked for the pier. 

 His stomach was streaked with blood as he clambered up a piling and 



